Running on Crutches
by tenthrose
Summary: After a nasty tumble, the Doctor takes Martha to a beautiful planet where he can recover on a relaxing holiday. Pity that wherever he goes trouble never seems to be too far behind. And running on crutches is nearly impossible.
1. Tumble

**Doctor Who belongs to the BBC. Yorick (and Hamlet) belongs to Shakespeare.**

"Well... it turns out that having blue and red in the same outfit is a dishonour to the gods on this planet, punishable by being whacked over the head exactly twenty three and a half times with an object that looks oddly like an oversized metal cricket bat... run" the Doctor grinned sheepishly at Martha. It had started off brilliantly, visiting the beautiful planet and eating the yellow and green ice cream. The scenery was gorgeous, all in bright colours that still seemed to compliment each other perfectly. For once, the randomiser function on the TARDIS wasn't getting anyone into any trouble. Instead, it brought them to a planet the Doctor had never been to, but seemed to be exactly where he wanted to be. The amusement park was incredible, using anti-gravitational technology perfectly for the roller coasters. They had perfectly made drinks that tasted oddly like purple banana daiquiris, and the locals were so incredibly friendly to the foreigners. Well, until Martha, who was wearing blue jeans, put her red jacket back on. Then they noticed the subtle red pinstripes on the Doctor's dark blue suit, and his bright red converse sneakers. That was five minutes ago. Now the Doctor and Martha were running for their lives. Maybe the brown suit really didn't need a wash after all.

On the bright side, the hillside they were running through was very pretty, violet grass against a deep golden sky. The Doctor was a bit ahead of Martha, his long and skinny body was built for speed, and he had over nine hundred years of practice. Still, as he raced away from the deeply offended locals, his running was barely controlled. He was running manically, long limbs waving wildly. The wind created by his speed only made his already messy deep brown hair even more gravity defying, and his long brown coat billowed out behind him. Martha was only a few paces behind the him, running at her top speed in an attempt to keep up with the hyperactive time lord. The TARDIS wasn't far now, just past the bottom of the hill the time travellers were currently running along. They were far enough ahead of the alien mob to not be too worried, though there wasn't enough distance to stop for breath without the danger of having them catch up. The Doctor's warm brown eyes were gleaming with intensity, his only focus on reaching his ship and safety. For both himself and Martha. He knew full well enough her mother wasn't fond of him already, and getting Martha's head bashed in on an alien planet wouldnt do much to remedy that. Besides, he liked Martha. Looking over his shoulder for a brief instant to make sure she was still behind him, he didn't notice the knot on one of his well worn red converses loosen and undo itself.

Only seconds after the shoelace became undone, it found it's way under the Doctor's foot. He didn't realise he was falling until he hit the ground. The running was enough like barely controlled falling that there was hardly a difference. Once he was falling though, he was really falling, rolling head over heels down the grassy violet hill, his lanky body and the mercy of the planet's gravity. It took a few moments for it to register in Martha's mind that her friend was tumbling down the hill. However, she was soon running even faster through the purple grass, following him down the hill. On the way down she picked up one faded red trainer where it had fallen off his foot. The lace was undone, and muddy from having been stepped on. Well, that's what caused him to fall anyway. When Martha reached the Doctor at the bottom of the hill, he was sitting up where he'd landed. He had grass in his hair, and purple-ish stains from it on his suit. The dark blue fabric had a few cuts in it, and the Doctor had a few scratches himself, but from what Martha could see, there wasn't any blood. "Are you alright?" She asked, and received a nod in response. Still, better to make sure of that herself instead of letting him do more damage to himself by ignoring an injury. "Just going to check you out, okay?" She asked, kneeling down next to her alien best friend, and getting a grin in response. If he'd hit his head that would be the worst, and she'd always been told to start off with the worst in school.

The Doctor's warm brown eyes were focused and alert, intently watching his human traveling companion as she checked him over. Every few seconds they flitted up to the top of the hill to see if the alien mob was coming close. They apparently hadn't seen him fall down the hill, and were now off the trail. Well, that was good. Better to not have people, well slightly orange-ish people with three eyes, but still sort of people, in active pursuit to hit him and Martha round the head. His eyes were sparkling, drawing Martha in to all of the fire that burned behind them. She saw sadness in his eyes, that she'd always seen, even when he seemed to be at his happiest. Rose. Martha didn't know what exactly had happened to his ex girlfriend, but she knew it destroyed him on the inside. She could see the pain in those beautiful brown eyes, even though he was smiling, though she couldn't tell if it was the same emotional pain or if he'd hurt himself. Carefully, Martha slid her hands through the Doctor's hair, along his scalp. As she checked for any bumps or cuts she couldn't see though his thick, messy, brown hair, she brushed the purple grass from it. Thankfully, at least his head seemed to be unharmed. Still looking in his eyes, she could tell it wasn't uncomfortable for him. She withdrew her hands from around his head, brushing the side of her hand across a lightly freckled cheek as she went. "Think I'm alright_ Doctor_ Jones?" He asked her with a wink, putting emphasis on the title. She nodded, and he grinned. "Back to the TARDIS so we can stay that way then?" He suggested, glancing up at the top of the hill again and the alien mob who still seemed oblivious to their location.

The Doctor scrambled to his feet without assistance, but fell back to the ground with a scream of pain after less than a second of standing. He clenched his teeth, whole body tense with agony. He was hunched over, facing the grass, every muscle tightened as he cried in pain. Martha was at his side in an instant, rolling him gently onto his back. His eyes were shut tight, and he held one leg protectively against his chest. "Let me see," Martha asked him, and when the time lord didn't respond, she pried his hands from the site of the injury. Immediately she saw what was hurting him so much. His bare foot had swollen to more than double it's healthy size, clearly broken. The Doctor shivered as Martha gently pushed his pant leg up, revealing more of his skin. Moving up, things didn't look any better. He'd badly sprained the ankle, and she could feel the bone move beneath her fingers. It also looked as if he'd broken the leg in at least two other places. How had he not felt it until he stood? The Doctor started to sit, propped up on his elbows, looking much more relaxed. "You broke it," Martha told him, though she knew he had already figured that out. He attempted to get back up, leaning heavily against her this time as not to put any weight on the injured limb. She pulled his arm across her shoulders, and began helping him back to the TARDIS. She was very nearly carrying him, a challenge seeing as he was a good deal bigger than she. Martha had practiced this sort of thing many times before in school, at role plays and things. One student would play the injured person, and their partner would have to help them. She'd seen pictures of this type of injury in books, but nothing truly prepared Martha for helping her friend back to his ship.

The Doctor was the one to actually open the door to the TARDIS, and as Martha pulled it closed, he collapsed into the captain's chair. He spun the chair around so he was facing the console, and then quickly moved the time ship into the vortex, and nearly fell off in the process. TARDIS travel was something he was used to doing standing up and running around, though that didn't seem to be an option at the moment. It wasn't as if he was trying to get somewhere, just away from the planet. There was no way that the people who'd been chasing them could have gotten into the TARDIS... but he didn't want them whacking his ship. Besides, if they saw it, they might recognise him, and he _liked_ that planet. Well... until the locals wanted to bash his head in, and then he broke his leg on the hill. Things like that made a place a little less appealing. He leaned forward against the console, staring absently at the dials."Doctor?" The Doctor turned his head at the mention of his name, looking up at his companion. "Where's your infirmary?" Martha asked, the concern obvious in her voice. "You need to take care of that," she told him, looking at the injury. He obviously hadn't felt the breaks until he tried to stand, and she knew that there could be some other injuries he hadn't noticed yet.

"Down that hall..." The Doctor gestured at one of the hallways off the Tardis console room, "Then take a left at the fork, interesting name for a split in a hall isn't it, eighth door on the right, just past the billiard room," he informed her, talking quickly. "It's not very close to the console room because I don't use it much..." He grinned sheepishly, realising that putting his med bay way in the back of his ship worked against him sometimes "You know... it's all hospital-y. Not hospital gift-shop-y, I like those, but hospitals just smell like... sterile-ness. I really, honestly do not know what it is with medical places and smells. There was this one planet that came out with scented disinfectant though, their hospitals were brilliant. I bought loads of the banana scent at their gift shop. Oh, that was a brilliant shop Martha, I need to take you there sometime," The Doctor babbled contently as Martha began to help him up. "They've got great replicas of the biopatterns of most species. Whole realistic skeletons you can buy! I got a replica human skull there... he's called Yorick. Good name for a skull, Yorick, Shakespeare came up with that one all by himself. I should take you to Hamlet too, there was a brilliant one summer of 2008... that's next year for you, right? They used a real live, well, not live, it was very dead skull by then... but it was alive once! I knew him, Martha, a fellow of infinite jest. Well, that's not true, but the lead actor me touch the skull! He had great hair... the actor, not the skull, skulls don't have hair, except for this one race of in the chrllyntyi nebula who are just skeletons with hair! They looked like something out of... OW!" The Doctor cut himself off mid thought with a cry of pain as Martha's hand accidentally brushed against one of the breaks. She shifted her grasp on him, and he relaxed for a second. "No, ow, that hurts too, sorry, that... what are you doing?! I'll just... OW... stay here... MARTHA!" The Doctor screamed through clenched teeth, his whole body contorted again in pain and he would have fallen to the floor if Martha hadn't been holding him tightly. He was still somewhat dazed from the pain as Martha lifted him fully into her arms, which was awkward as he was much taller, and even though he was rail thin, he had quite a bit of weight on her. At first he squirmed in her grip, not wanting to be carried like a baby. "No, Martha, I can walk!" He protested, but she ignored him, knowing it wasn't true. After a few more seconds of attempting to be let down, he settled down in her grip, and allowed her to carry him all the way down the hall to the infirmary.

Martha tiredly let the Doctor down onto a bed in the med bay. "You can get yourself undressed, right?" She asked him, and got a nod in return. The TARDIS infimary was much like a normal hospital, which seemed odd for the Doctor. It didn't have the customary TARDIS grating on the floor, and the walls were painted a somewhat off white. There were quite a few different scanners and pieces of equipment in the room, not entirely organised. Most of them she recognised, but some she didn't. The room smelled like a bad air freshener, presumably the banana scented disinfectant that the Doctor had been talking about earlier. It was a little messy for a hospital room, and she noticed a few things laying around from previous times it had been as she looked for something she could use to help him. A note in red pen laying on an examination table caught her eye, and she glanced at it. _Doctor-just getting you a cuppa if you wake up and don't see me xoxo, Rose_. There was a circular stain on the note that looked as if someone had put a cup on it, probably the tea that Rose had mentioned. Underneath the stain was a response she couldn't quite make out. Nearby was a card with teddy bears and balloons with a 'get well soon' message on it. It was laying open, with a note written in black ink, this time adressed to Rose. _Humans send these, right? Don't ring your Mum, she'll kill me. Feel FANTASTIC now!_ The Doctor had signed it, but it didn't look like his handwriting, and it seemed like he was trying a little too hard. The card had a coat of dust on it, it had probably been a few years ago. Martha had heard all about Rose, but seeing the notes hurt a little. Just made it even more obvious what she already knew. The Doctor and Rose had loved each other, and whatever had happened to the latter (Martha didn't really want to ask), it obviously hadn't changed for him. A scream of pain from the direction of the Doctor brought Martha away from the notes. She was looking through his stuff while he was hurt. Immediately Martha ran to the Time Lord to help him out, and saw him sitting up on the bed with his hands around the injured leg. He'd been trying to set it himself, and it was clearly too painful for even him to do alone. "I'll do it, you shouldn't," she told him, and without any protest, he moved his hands back. With a mix between training and adrenaline, Martha set the bones, trying to block out the sounds of the man she loved crying in pain. After what seemed like forever, it was done. She then found some bandages and plaster and went about making sure he couldn't move it, with a little coaching and assistance from the Doctor himself.

Around an hour later, the Doctor was standing somewhat unsteadily against the wall, holding a pair of crutches. He was wearing his brown pinstriped suit, with a white shirt and crimson tie underneath. It was a little ruffled as always, and his tie was a bit crooked. One trouser leg was the way he always wore it, with a single cream coloured converse double knotted on his foot. The other trouser leg was bunched up at his knee, revealing a plastic brace above the cast. A white sock covered in little pictures of bananas was also slightly visible. A little childish, but not too surprising for the Doctor. He was leaning on the wall more than the crutches, and was fidding around with the sonic screwdriver to come up with a way he could both use them for support and keep his hands free, mumbling under his breath in the process. He'd come up with quite a few rather humourous solutions that didn't quite work, the best being using the screwdriver as a remote control, so the the crutches moved without him. After making them dance around the console floor a bit, and fetch him a cup of tea, he gave up on that idea for another more useful one. Not that fetching tea wasn't a useful thing. It was very useful! He was addicted to caffeine in this regeneration after all. Something to do with drinking about 36 cups of it within 24 hours his most recent regeneration. After another fifteen minutes of fiddling, the Doctor was a little frustrated, and abandoned the project, and slid down the wall so he was sitting on the floor. "I look daft in one shoe... already told you that, didn't I?" The Doctor commented, staring at his feet but talking to Martha.

"You'll get used it. Cast's going to be on for months with those breaks," she told him, knowing it wasn't really helping.

"No, nowhere near that long!" The Doctor retorted, deeply insulted at the idea. HIM?! In a cast for months? If that was going to be the case, he'd probably just regenerate. Well, maybe not. He loved this body, wouldn't give it up for anything. He'd just go to sleep until it healed, which would make it quicker. Silly thing to think about anyway, the only way he'd be on crutches for that long is if he'd gotten his leg blown straight off.

"How long do you think it'll be?" Martha asked her alien friend, out of curiosity more than anything. She'd been travelling with him for a few months now, but was still mystified by how his body worked.

"Oh, it depends. If I sit perfectly still and don't move it at all, it'll be all better in a couple days... but... more likely, about a week. One week and there will hardly be a trace I ever broke it to begin with," The Doctor answered quickly and with a small degree of pride at how fast he healed.

"One week... for that many breaks?" Martha replied incredulously. She'd never heard of anyone recovering from several fractures so quickly. Then again, there were a lot of things she'd never heard of before the Doctor came into her life that she now knew to be true.

"Yup! Seven days!" The Doctor flashed a trademark grin, popping out the p at the end.

"So... you'll be resting up in the TARDIS for the next week?" Martha guessed, though she couldn't entirely picture him sitting still for that long. Knowing him, he'd be attempting to run around long before he got the cast off, even though it wasn't a good idea.

"Oh, no, that would be boring! Why would I want to do something like that?" The Doctor replied, almost offended at the suggestion. "There's this planet I'd love to take you... purple sky and eighteen moons of every different colour!" He grinned as he spun the dials and grabbed the console tightly to avoid toppling over. When the TARDIS had stopped shaking, signalling their arrival. The Doctor grabbed the crutches from where they were laying nearby and headed for the door. He flung it open, and stepped onto the planet's beautiful surface with Martha just behind him.

**This isn't betaed (I don't know any DW Betas), but I'd like one. In a valiant attempt to get reviews, super awesome points to anyone who knows who let the Doctor touch Yorick, and why he liked that person's hair. Oh, and PLEASE don't fave or subscribe (not that I'm expecting either of those...) without a review. Oh, and don't be afraid to be harsh-I'm new and trying to get better... tell me something's awful if it is.**


	2. Injured in Paradise

**If I owned Doctor Who, I'd actually be able to see David Tennant in silky white pyjamas. There are alternate universes, right?  
**

The sky was a beautifully rich royal violet, with soft variations of colour that almost looked as if it had a deep texture. The planet's evening sun was metallic and silvery, casting a glow on the whole surface as it set. Nine of the planet's eighteen moons were visible, showing a gradient of bright colours in different moon phases. There were wispy pink clouds in the sky, and odd blue trees. The grass was the same green as the earth's grass, though it looked very well cared for. The Doctor had been here once before, a long time ago, and he'd loved it. "This planet is called Paradise III, in an attempt to get rich tourists to come," The Doctor informed Martha. "It was originally the palace planet of one of the richest royal families in this nebula, but when they were overthrown the next dynasty wanted to keep their old palace planet, so they changed a few things around here, and turned it into a resort for anyone who could pay to get in. They'll do anything for you here, because only the richest people in the universe can get here. Costs roughly a trillion pound to stay here a week, not that they use pounds in this star system," The Doctor continued his explanation, talking quickly and excitedly. Then, with a cheeky grin, he continued "Weeeellll... either that or a TARDIS, a sheet of psychic paper, and one very clever time lord!" He told Martha, clearly proud of himself. "And that building, right there," he added, pointing at a beautiful building that looked like a cathedral made of sapphire and gold, "is one of the best resorts on he planet, and where I think we should spend the night," the time lord finished, still grinning. He raised his eyebrows at Martha, who barely managed a nod, amazed that he would take her to somewhere like this. "Allons-y!" The Doctor shouted, setting off to the hotel.

He was stumbling, not very steady on the crutches he was using. They weren't landing evenly, and in the first minute of walking, the Doctor came close to falling at least twice. A few times he winced and nearly cried out when the broken foot brushed against Paradise III's ground, even through the brace. Martha stood close to him, ready to catch him if he tripped before he hurt himself again. This was the slowest she'd walked since she'd met the Doctor. With him, everything was normally so fast paced, even when he was relaxed, whatever that meant with him. He was clearly trying to go fast now, but it wasn't going so well for him. Martha was half expecting to be carrying both the Doctor and the crutches by the time they got to the hotel. However, he was quickly getting the hang of it, and started to speed up. It was still incredibly slow (and silent, he must have been concentrating) for the Doctor, but Martha found herself walking at a nearly normal speed to stay next to him. He was starting to almost enjoy the swinging motion of attempting to walk with the crutches. Sure, he would have been at the door already if he wasn't using them, but he liked swinging. Would be better to swing on a swing though. Now there was a creative word, swing. Nice invention though, it very fun to swing. This wasn't quite as much fun as that, and quite a great deal more painful. It felt a little awkward on his armpits, and he wasn't sure he liked not having his hands free too much. The crutching (which probably wasn't a word, but the Doctor didn't really care) seemed to be in exact timing with the rhythmic throbbing of the injury, which the Doctor was mostly succeeding to ignore, too focused on making it to the palace of a hotel that was now fairly close.

The doorman of the hotel looked almost canine. He had long, silky golden fur, and deep amber eyes, and ears that stuck up. His tail was hanging straight down, a sign of submission. He wore a cloak the same colour as the planet's sky, with ornate detailing in silver thread, and the logo of the hotel, The Tenth Moon, sewn expertly on. Immediately upon seeing the Doctor and Martha, he bowed deeply, and opened the ornate golden door. The Doctor thanked the doorman, and proceeded into the lushly carpeted foyer. The carpeting and the crutches didn't seem to quite agree with each other too well, and the Doctor quickly abandoned trying to use them in favour of tucking them under one arm and putting the other around Martha's shoulders, using her for extra support. She gladly allowed him to lean on her, and they walked slowly together to the check in desk. Another creature of the same species in the same uniform greeted the travelers warmly. The Doctor smiled at him, and reached for the psychic paper in his pocket, letting go of the crutches and leaning them against the desk. He quickly located the multi-purpose ID, and showed it to the man (well, sort of man) at the desk, "Hello, I'm Doctor John Smith, and this is Martha, we'd like a room here for the week, maybe a little less, but probably about the week," the Doctor told the man at the desk, one arm still around Martha's shoulders.

The check-in man smiled at the Doctor and Martha, and took the psychic paper from the Doctor's hand. He looked at it for a few seconds, and then spun in his chair to face the futuristic looking computer next to him. After some scrolling around and a little clicking, he tuned back around, and handed the paper back to the Doctor. "We have your reservation for our universe suite, the best and most expensive in our excellent hotel. It's been quite some time since it's been inhabited, but I do assure you both it's in wonderful shape," the check in man informed them. Martha's eyes widened at the fact that the Doctor had booked them the best room in the place, and he gave her a quick wink and a grin. The check in man looked back at his computer, typed a few things, wrote a quick note on a piece of paper, and then quickly turned back again. "It will be my utmost pleasure to lead you to your suite myself, Doctor and Mrs. Smith," he stood, and walked out from behind the desk. Martha opened her mouth to correct him for assuming marriage, but the Doctor quickly told her to go with it. She nodded in acceptance, and settled her gaze on her_ husband_, wishing for an instant that it could be the truth. Only the Doctor could comfortably pretend to be married and still be completely oblivious to her as a possible romantic partner. Martha knew he was straight, with how often he talked about Rose. He'd never explicitly called her his girlfriend, but that much was obvious to just about anyone. Yet, Martha would have thought that she and the Doctor were just as obvious, but if it had ever occurred to him, he was doing an excellent job of keeping it a secret. The Doctor reached out to grab his crutches again, but the check-in guy turned guide quickly took them first. "I'll take those off your hands sir, as well as any luggage that you or your wife may have, though you don't appear to be carrying any"

"Oi! I need those!" The Doctor yelled, and attempted to take them back. It wasn't that he couldn't make it to the room just holding onto Martha, and if he needed to, he could walk there on his own. Well, it would hurt a bit if he did, but he could if he really, really wanted to. Still, he didn't want anyone taking away the crutches. After only a second of trying to get them back, his mouth formed an O, and he said the same, realising that he didn't actually need them for now. What could best be described as a floating sofa had appeared next to them, and the check-in guy turned guide turned chauffeur had gotten into the drivers seat. He gestured for them to climb on, and the Doctor did just that before giving a hand to Martha to help her climb up. "Well, maybe I don't need them... nice sofa by the way. Been ages since I've been on a flying sofa. It was brilliant the last time, loads of fun. Didn't think I'd get a chance to do it again! Oh, and we don't have any luggage. Martha and I travel light. Really, really, really light. Might have been smart to bring pyjamas though, for the sleeping," The Doctor was speaking quickly as usual when he realised that pyjamas had been a bit of an oversight on his part. They were generally useful. The chauffeur assured him that the best of pyjamas were waiting for them in their room. Immediately after he finished talking, the flying sofa took off. It was slower than the last flying sofa the Doctor had been on, a little less fun, but still not bad. It took them on a fairly nice route, past a lot of portraits of important people who had helped found the hotel, or just given it loads of money. Even more loads of money than a room cost, which was still loads. Unless you had psychic paper, that is, in which case just about everything was free.

After about five minutes on the flying sofa, they reached a door that said Universe Suite in fancy gold lettering. "This us?" The Doctor asked, remembering that was the name he'd been told their suite was called when he arrived. He was answered by the sofa coming to a stop. Their chauffeur got out first, handed the Doctor his crutches, and helped both him and Martha down from the sofa, which was still hovering. He also gave a key to each of them, before using a third one to open their door. The universe suite was beautiful as expected. The floor was covered with intricate wood paneling, made from a type of tree that, according to the Doctor, was deemed valuable enough that it was cut down to extinction, though a grove of them was added to the now monumental list of places that he ought to take Martha. The walls of the room were the most modest aspect of the planet that Martha had seen so far, a pretty cream shade with subtle silvery paintings. The ceiling was painted a navy blue with sprinkling of stars, and reminded her of the great hall in the _Harry Potter_ books. Martha ran a caramel hand across the wall, amazed at how the Doctor had taken her to two amazing places in one day. The last one hadn't turned out so well for him though. The Doctor seemed more occupied with the big wooden wardrobe than the luxury of the room. He had thrown open all of the drawers, before letting out a big grin. "They've got pyjamas Martha! Actual, proper, pyjamas! Nice looking ones too... ooh, I think those might be in my size too... don't you love pyjamas Martha? Have you read Hitch-hikers guide to the galaxy? Brilliant book, well, completely and totally inaccurate, Dolphins aren't that clever, and the Earth wasn't made by mice, it was made big a really really really big red spider. Anyway, Arthur Dent saved the world in his pyjamas. So have I actually. Weeeellll... not my pyjama's... Rose's... I told you about her, right? Weelll, actually they were Rose's Mum's boyfriend's pyjamas, but I was wearing them! I had a sword fight with someone who wanted to sell humans into slavery. On a space ship. I won, weeellll, I lost first, but then I came back and won. Then I knocked him off the space ship with a satsuma for trying to stab me. I like satsumas. Not as much as bananas, but satsumas are brilliant!" He was talking quickly and excitedly, sounding not for the first time like a toddler on Christmas, about the simple topic of nightclothes. He took a pair of white silk pyjamas with dark blue pinstripes out of the drawer, still grinning like a kid.

Even after a few months of living with the Doctor, his ability to get extraordinarily excited about... absolutely nothing still amazed her. With all of the amazing things that he saw daily... nearly wetting his pants over a pair of pyjamas. Well, the Doctor was absolutely incredible. "Are you... tired?" Martha asked. It would explain why he was so interested in pyjamas, and it was late, by both the time on the planet and Standard TARDIS Time. Martha and the Doctor started their day about twenty hours ago, and even with all of the excitement of the day, she was getting a little sleepy. Not that the Doctor would be getting tired at the same rate as a human... he seemed to go forever without needing any sleep, though Martha had come to expect that he got a few hours rest while she was sleeping and just didn't admit it. However, as Martha walked over to the wardrobe, she noticed that the Doctor was looking a little worn out. He hadn't been when she'd checked him out... was it only an hour ago? No, it had to have been more. The time lord couldn't have gotten from looking healthy and alert to looking so close to falling over this fast, though Martha had heard about what pain could do to a person. The Doctor was looking a little pale as he leaned against the wardrobe. His eyelids were starting to fall, and his eyes were somewhat bloodshot, and slightly glazed over. Maybe the whole pyjama rant was just overtired rambling... from someone who never got tired. The day he'd had would wear anyone out, but Martha was shocked to see the Doctor looking so... human. She was in half a mind to think he was getting ill... though surely that was too bad luck, even for him. Though, maybe it was almost fortunate... if he was both hurt _and_ sick that was double reason for him to actually get himself some rest and take care of himself. though, double nothing was still nothing.

It took a second for the Doctor to respond to Martha's question. "Of course I'm not tired, I don't get tired, why would I be tired?" He arched an eyebrow at the preposterous suggestion, though after a split second he seemed to reconsider. "Weeelll... maybe I'm a little tired, but not for the same reason as humans. Weelll... I'm a lot tired, actually. Time Lordy endorphins are streaming through my body. That's a very very very good thing for pain, weell, it's a bad thing for pain, but a good thing for someone who's hurt themselves and doesn't want to be feeling any. Time Lordy endorphins are a little different than human ones though... stronger. Works like an anaesthetic for serious enough injuries and sickness, and I just wake up from a healing coma all better. Not that bad this time, but right now it's more of... personal pain medication. One of the ones that says 'warning may cause drowsiness' on the label, and comes in an orange bottle. Weellll, not really may cause drowsiness, but just plain _does_ cause drowsiness. Healing puts me to sleep, which I don't like. Really... sleep! Humans spend a third of their lives all tucked up in bed doing nothing! Why would anyone want to be spending perfectly good time sleeping? Time is valuable... weeellll, unless you're **_me_**, in which case I have all the time in the universe, but I hate sleeping so it doesn't matter." The Doctor managed to get out the whole rant in a space of about six seconds, more than half of which was spent with the 'well's. "I guess I could do with a bit of a nap while I adjust to having the endorphins on. Love the pyjamas, and the bed looks brilliant," he then added, completely doing away with his half a second earlier complaint about sleep. "You tired too?" He then added as an obvious afterthought.

"Yeah, I'm tired too," Martha answered, and reached out to help the Doctor to the bed. It was a big, fluffy king sized bed, but only one. The last time the two had shared a bed, right after they'd met, it hadn't gone so well, but it seemed like there was enough room for both in this bed. It helped that no evil witches were going to attack during the night, and that the Doctor actually had the intention of getting some rest, but judging by the fact he was talking as fast as normal, he was still pretty hyped up. The Doctor bounced a little as he sat on the edge of the bed, and when no springs protested, he carried on bouncing, going even faster until he fell back onto the bed, laughing. A nine hundred odd year old toddler, that's what he was. He sat up again, now feeling a little dizzy both from the bouncing and the fact that his body hadn't stopped filling his blood stream and brain with chemicals that were exhausting him. The Doctor loosened his tie and took it off, placing it next to him on the bed. He then shrugged off his jacket, and unbuttoned and removed his shirt. He then quickly put on the pyjama top, which did seem to fit him perfectly. The Doctor took off his shoe and the brace on his own, but needed a little of Martha's assistance with getting the trousers off and pyjama bottoms on. He then climbed into one side of the bed, closing his eyes almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. "'Night Doctor," Martha told him, before putting his clothes away. She then grabbed her own pair of silk pyjamas from the dresser, and changed in the attached bathroom. When she returned to the bedroom she turned off the lights and got into the opposite side of the bed from the Doctor, who didn't really acknowledge her arrival. "You asleep?" Martha whispered, not enough to wake him up if he was. He must have really been exhausted.

"No," The Doctor muttered, though he wasn't far from sleep, "night Martha". While Martha quickly curled up and readied herself for sleep, the Doctor spent the next few minutes trying to get comfortable. Despite his body's natural painkillers putting him to sleep, he was still hurting from the fall, and every way he lay seemed to be putting pressure on some bruise or another, if not any of the breaks. Eventually though, he found a comfortable position, and in only a few seconds, he was deeply asleep. The Doctor slept deeply, but not well. He was dreaming the instant he shifted into sleep, and not pleasantly. It had been the same ever since the time war. He had gotten so much better, but only when he was awake. His dreams were still plagued with the sight of Gallifrey burning. He had many reasons to avoid sleep, but one was definitely not having to relive the worst thing he'd ever been through in his very long life. He could still hear the cries of the daleks to exterminate all the time lords ringing in his ears. The daleks didn't even need to exterminate the time lords. That had been his job. Making sure there were no survivors of the long and terrible war, aside from himself. Everyone else had died, and he had escaped with the most painful regeneration of his life. The aftermath of the time war lasted all through time in two ways. It was impossible to travel to before the war, and as long as the Doctor lived, in any body, he would be haunted by it every time he closed his eyes. Eventually the nightmare shifted, though not to any more pleasant of a dream. Instead of Gallifrey burning, the Doctor saw Rose's finger slipping from the lever, a million billion times per second. That too, in turn, faded to another, very different dream..

The Doctor was standing in a room. He was wearing his brown pinstriped suit, but his red trainers. That was odd. He never wore the brown suit with the red trainers. Why would he be wearing the wrong shoes? Or the wrong suit, he wasn't quite sure whether he was meant to be wearing his brown suit or his cream converse. A vague recollection in the Doctor's still sleeping brain reminded him that when he'd fallen asleep, he was wearing silky pyjamas and no trainers at all, and before that he'd been wearing the brown suit he was wearing now, with one cream coloured trainer and one dark grey brace. Looking down, he saw that the brace and cast had gone, along with the throbbing of the injuries. Well, that made sense. Stupid to dream about being hurt. Well, he had dreamt about being hurt before, not a very nice dream. Looking around, the Doctor saw that the room in which he was standing was a pretty room, with intricate flooring, pretty cream walls, and a starry ceiling. The universe suite at the Tenth Moon hotel on Paradise III. The same bedroom in which he was fast asleep. The king sized bed was empty, however, sheets tossed aside as if someone had gotten up and not made their bed. It was daytime, and the planet's silvery sunlight was streaming through the windows. The Doctor walked over to the bed, and poked it. It was soft, but his finger bounced back. Enjoying himself a little, he poked the bed again. He continued doing so for about five minutes, before clambering up onto the bed, and jumping on it. It was a nice bed for jumping on, and jumping on beds was fun. Slightly pointless thing to do while asleep, but in a lucid dream the Doctor could really do whatever he wanted, so he carried on with his jumping and bouncing on the bed, deciding to have some fun before he slipped into another nightmare. After about ten minutes of bouncing, the Doctor flopped down laughing, now laying on his stomach. The Doctor felt something wet against his hand. Must have been sweating with all the jumping. No... it was too sticky for sweat. Picking his hand up and bringing it into his line of sight, he saw his palm gleam red. Blood. He gave it a lick to figure out the species, and dropped his hand back down onto the bed, shocked. Time Lord blood. **HIS** blood. The Doctor jumped up from the bed and tore off into the bathroom, the first door he could find. Standing there was a big, hairy black creature that didn't quite look like it belonged in paradise. _I thought I already dealt with you, Time Lord_. The Doctor heard the creature's voice screeching in his brain. _No matter. I can deal with you again._ Before the Doctor had a chance to ask what that meant, the creature lunged at him, blood soaked claws tearing into his face.

The Doctor sat bolt upright, gasping for air. He was covered in sweat, the memory of the attack still fresh in his brain. Just a nightmare, he reassured himself. Only a silly nightmare. He was wearing his pyjamas again, it was nighttime, and Martha was fast asleep besides him. Just a nightmare. Except that it couldn't have just been a nightmare. The Doctor didn't have ordinary nightmares. Especially not about monsters who were standing in the room.

**Wow, the first chapter of this got more reviews already than most of my stuff gets... ever. ConCrit welcomed and begged for. Sorry for the cliffhanger though...  
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